The alarm clock warned me. At 5:20am it softly reminded me with Smokey Robinson's "Tears of a Clow-wow-ow-own. When there's no one aro-hound..." and then of course there is the little man who peeps on that flute or picalo or whatever it is. My eyes strain as if made of molten gooey lead. " OOOOOOOpen. Breathe baby , c'mon. You can do it! " My body is stirring; getting ready for my workout. My bed begins to seductively tease me, coaxing me back. It ivites me with the lure of warm, protective sheets and snuggly pillows. My legs make a break for it. They rip free of the sticky sweet remnants of sleep and force themselves out into the thick dark morning that is my room. They pull and lug the rest of me crying and clawing to go back....to sleep, to dream. My body whines and promises like a child: "We'll work out later! We'll think about it for TWO hours rather than actually doing it for one. That will psychologically burn twice as many calories right? RIGHT?" My feet don't buy it. They slump into shoes that are tied just loosely so they can sneak in before the body truly understands what is about to happen.
The house is dark and stirs only to creak in protest at my movement. It seems offended that I am up so early. So am I quite frankly, but I go and visit my instructor who waits happy, awake and rarin' tah go in my dvd player. I hate him, his alert blue eyes and chipper attitude. I stick my tongue out while pushing play. I raise my arms up! Up! Up and streeeeeeetch. The only satisfaction I have is that I am also flipping the finger and he can't see me. THIS feels good old boy. Lemme tell you. Take that. And here's one on the other side for ya. Ohhhhhh yeahhhhhh. Feel the burn.
I begin with pushups and pull ups. I hear him barking in my ear to push harder. He demands to know what I'm made of. How deep can I go? I begin to push back. I'm not made of dough but steel and I'm going to whup his arse. He might do twenty, but I'll do twenty one. I might even lift my leg during my pushups. Whoa~ Maybe only once. Howdya like that tough guy? I lift my weights and growl like a puma. In my mind, I sound ferocious, quite a force to be reckoned with. I get revved up and take on my instructor. I do this for almost an hour and a half. When I am through, I am soaked in sweat, panting and reluctantly laughing at that merciless man's jokes (that I've heard a hundred times). I give him the wink and a towel flip and push stop. Headin to the lockerroom. My work is done here.
The house is stirring in the morning light. It's a lazy wake up call. I walk past my bed that hmphs and refuses to speak to me. Punishing me, it welcomes my dog Winston (a jack-russel/pug mix that snores like a bear and burps like a drunken sailor) instead. The blankets comfort him and he sighs with great satisfaction. I pause and longingly look over. "We used to be friends you and me..."I say. "No matter what, you'll always be my favorite. But I have to go, he gets offended so easily. But my heart is with you." My bed softens and Winston shifts. There is room. I see it like a friendly ember and I lie down: just for a minute I, promise. Just long enough to make ammends.
I love my workouts. They make me see the value of 400 thread count sheets.
